Melting the Ice
by darkess-knight
Summary: He was the arrogant Slytherin prince. She was the kindhearted, brave Gryffindor bookworm. But that was when Hogwarts still existed. Lions aren’t meant to be slaves to dragons. Can one girl make a difference in the oppressive kingdom of Voldemort?
1. Chapter 1: Voldemort's Kingdom

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters; those belong to the wonderful J. K. Rowling. I do, however, own this plot.

**MELTING THE ICE**

**Chapter 1: Voldemort's Kingdom**

"Draco," Lucius Malfoy began. "Today is your eighteenth birthday." Draco looked up from his breakfast, startled. He hadn't expected his father to remember. "You are no longer a child, and it is time to introduce you into the world of men," Lucius continued.

He leaned back in his chair with a smirk. "It's traditional for the Malfoy heir to receive a certain gift, shall we say, when his father deems him of age. I'm sure you will find this present quite… pleasurable."

Draco cleared his throat. "I don't think I quite understand, father."

Lucius looked slightly irritated. "I didn't expect you to. I have been too soft with you, and it is my fault you don't know of the finer aspects of adulthood in the Malfoy family. Leave us, Narcissa." She left the table silently as two half-bloods moved in to clear her dishes.

Lucius leaned closer to his son. "You are not a virgin, I presume?"

Draco looked startled at this unexpected question, but answered. "No, father."

"How old were you?" Lucius asked.

"Fourteen," Draco responded.

Lucius grunted in annoyance at himself. "I should have done this much sooner. Come, we will go to get you your birthday present." He raised his voice. "Bring me a coat." A houseelf scurried up, doing its best not to trip over the long black cloak it carried in front of it. Lucius muttered a few words, then disappeared. Draco lazily flicked his wand as he apparated after his father.

The two Malfoys appeared with a crack in the middle of a busy market. Surrounding them were cages filled with females of all ages, ranging from prepubescent to near adult.

Draco wandered past the cages of several scantily clad blonds. He leered at them, and one sent him a wink. The owner scurried over to them.

"Master Malfoy! And the young heir, learning the rites of passage into the world of adults. You've come to the right place. We have some of the best mudbloods left," he said. "They are all trained to follow your bidding, not that there's really any other use for them…" his voice trailed off.

"There never was any use for mudbloods," Lucius responded. "A scar on the surface of an otherwise perfect world." Voldemort's rise to power in the summer after Draco's sixth year had not been kind to those he deemed inappropriate for proper society. With the help of his death-eaters, he had destroyed the muggle population of the world. Mudbloods he left alive, but they were forced into slavery with their wands taken from them to prevent a rebellion. Half-bloods, and others tainted by the blood of the non-pure, were allowed certain rights, but they were the working class, unfit to rule to partake in the activities of the upper class. Purebloods were the favored ones, the wizards who governed and owned the world. The original death-eaters were given roles of prominence in the new world, with Voldemort ruling over all as the master of the world.

Draco walked past dozens of cages, casting an eye over each female inside. Lucius and the owner followed a step behind as Draco browsed, ignoring each one in turn.

"Well, Draco?" Lucius asked. "Have you found one to suit your fancy?"

"Not yet, father," Draco said. "They all seem to be… lacking, somewhat."

"I can assure you," the owner said. "We have all types of females here. They are specifically trained to pleasure you, and to passively follow your orders."

"It is time you had a slave to have fun with," Lucius told Draco, "take your time, after all, as a Malfoy, you deserve only the best whore possible." Draco continued to walk down the row, staring at woman after woman. Some were blonds, some were brunettes, and some were redheads. The one thing they all had in common was the eagerness in which they stared out at the men strolling by: they had realized the only thing left to them in this world was to find a pureblooded male to please. That is, all except for one.

Draco came to a stop in front of a cage that held a brunette. Her head was tilted downward so her tumbling locks would cover her face. The owner twisted his hands nervously. "This one, well, we've had some trouble with this one. She didn't take to the training quite as well as some of the others, fighting whenever she has the chance. All the stories you hear about grateful mudbloods, thankful for their lives? She isn't one of them. I get the feeling she'd rather be dead than captive, the way she acts. I tell you, this girl is trouble. She's managed to deflect a few of our minor spells." He looked around before whispering, "It's even rumored that she is strong enough to perform wandless magic."

"Make her look up," Draco commanded. "I want to see her face." Lucius came to stand beside him.

"You! Wench!" the owner pounded on the cage. "You heard the young master!" She refused to budge.

"Stubborn," Lucius remarked. A gleam appeared in Draco's eye: there was nothing he loved more than a challenge, and breaking this girl in would amuse him for weeks.

The owner saw this, and made an effort not to lose the sale. "Look up now before you lose meal privileges!" he threatened the girl. She slowly moved her head, turning her face upward, still stubbornly refusing to meet the eyes of the men outside her cage.

Draco recognized the curve of her profile even before it fully hit him. He gasped. "Granger?"

She reeled backwards from the shock before a spark of defiance leaped into her chocolate eyes. She stared him full in the face. "Malfoy," she spat, as if it were a curse word.

Draco looked on in amazement for a moment. He had always thought the prissy schoolgirl might be hiding something underneath her robes, but he had never quite realized how good she looked. Somehow, she had transformed from the bossy, know-it-all first year to a gorgeous, full-figured woman. Although she was dressed in hardly more than rags, they displayed her figure to an advantage. He turned. "I'll take this one."

"Are you sure that's wise, Draco?" Lucius began. "After all, this one seems a bit resistant. Wouldn't you enjoy a more seductive slave?"

"Father, I have my reasons for this one," he said firmly. Lucius took a closer look at the girl. His expression changed as he realized who it was.

"How ironic. The clever mudblood isn't quite at the top anymore, are you?" He turned to his son. "Maybe now you won't be beaten in everything by a muggle-born girl."

"Yes, father." Draco answered promptly, never taking his eyes off Hermione. She refused to let herself be shaken by his presence, but instead continued to stare stonily ahead as the men discussed her.

"Get this… thing prepared," Lucius ordered. "How much does she cost?"

"One hundred and fifty galleons," the owner replied. "A fine deal for this one, too," he added smartly.

Lucius tone turned silky as he addressed the owner. "You said it yourself. This one is… troublesome. Surely you couldn't knock another twenty galleons off the price? After all, you would hate for us to have to take our business elsewhere."

The owner nodded quickly. "One hundred-thirty it is." He produced his wand and muttered a spell under his breath to unlock the cage. He prodded Hermione out, and forced a set of chains on her. "A pleasure to do business with you, Master Malfoy."

Lucius smiled thinly. "I'm sure it is. Come, Draco. Mind you keep hold of her." With Hermione struggling to break free, Draco took hold of the chains and apparated them back to Malfoy Mansion, following in his father's path.


	2. Chapter 2: Malfoy Manor

**MELTING THE ICE**

**Chapter 2: Malfoy Manor**

The three appeared in the entryway of Malfoy Manor: Lucius first, then Draco and Hermione. Lucius calmly waited for his son to get control of his slave, standing there watching the scene unfold without any move to help.

Draco was holding onto the chains binding Hermione's hands. She was struggling for all she was worth, fighting her hardest to escape. Her legs were free, and the only thing keeping her from running away was the pair of handcuffs on her. She stopped pulling for a moment and looked down at her chains. Her eyes widened in recognition: these were not magical cuffs by any means, but bindings of muggle origin.

Hermione shut her eyes and concentrated. She focused her thoughts on the metal before her and muttered a few choice words. With a snap, they broke open and fell of.

She was barely free of the chains when she was already running towards the door, scrambling as fast as she could go, almost out of the mansion. Draco was just staring at her with an open mouth, too amazed to do anything but gape. He now, for the first time, fully understood the extent of Hermione's powers. It was no wonder that she had always bested him in the exams if she was capable of this type of wandless magic.

Lucius watched Hermione try to escape. He barely batted an eye, flicking his wand effortlessly. Hermione was yanked backwards by Lucius' spell, now with a black leather collar around her neck. There was a silver serpent inscribed on it, making it look like a snake was wrapped around her. A chain connected to her collar appeared in Draco's hands.

Lucius spoke with the authority of one who is not used to argument: "Be sure you hold onto her this time. I won't have the patience to track her down, or the drive to purchase you a new one."

"Yes, father," Draco muttered. He turned his ice-glare to Hermione. "I will have no more problems with her."

"This collar is charmed against and escape spells she may be able to use. You now have been warned against what she can do. Do not underestimate her again. She is now your duty: I want nothing to do with your disciplinary matters of her. She is entirely under your control. I expect you to be able to handle this now." He spoke with a disapproving tone, then turned to leave the room, his robes billowing out behind him.

Hermione had been waiting passively during the whole lecture, but she lost her air of calm the moment Lucius left. "Your father already has doubts about whether you can 'handle' me or not, Malfoy. Be a shame if you disappointed him, wouldn't it?"

"Granger," Draco began, "you're nothing but a mudblood whore." She flushed. Draco continued, "you are my slave, and you have no rights. You never will. You're mine, to do with as I want--and I want. You will find that if you anger me, the consequences will be severe. You will soon learn to do what you're told, when you're told."

Hermione's eyes flashed angrily. Before Draco realized what was going on, she had whipped her arm up and slapped him in the face. "I will never listen to you, Malfoy," she shouted, stumbling away as far as the chain would let her. You know that I was always a better witch than you were, that I'm smarter than you'll ever be. I don't know what sick thoughts are going through your head, but I will NEVER submit to being your slave."

Draco brought his hand up to his cheek, stunned by Hermione's outburst. His eyes hardened as he jerked the chain, causing Hermione to fall in front of him. She saw the look on his face and terror flooded her expression, her chocolate eyes clouding with fear. She raised an arm to defend herself, but was no match for Draco's strength.

He punched her, letting his anger take control of him. He hit her in the face, and again in the side. She cried out, a single tear escaping from her eye.

Draco paused for a moment. _What am I doing?_ he thought. _This is a girl whose only fault is her muggle parents, and that she's smart. Why am I doing this to her? I shouldn't be doing this, this is wrong. All she tried to do was escape, and who wouldn't?_ He looked down at the cowering girl on the floor next to him. She had wrapped herself into a ball, as if to shield herself from the blows she undoubtedly expected to rain down upon her.

She looked so beautiful like that, so vulnerable. For a moment he stopped, considered his thoughts. But the spell broke.

"Get up," he growled, ashamed in more than one way. He was embarrassed at having lost his temper like that, using a physical method of punishment, was briefly ashamed at having treated one of his former schoolmates like that, and very much ashamed at the thoughts of pity he had. He was a Malfoy, a member of one of the most powerful wizarding families. Mudbloods were slaves, and they deserved that position in life.

Hermione pushed herself to her feet. She was obviously in pain, but refused to let her expression show that she was hurt, thereby managing to take all satisfaction away from Draco.

He regarded her calmly, noting her resistance of being broken. She still stared him full in the face, even after his show of dominance. When she spoke, it was a voice filled with hatred.

"You may call yourself my master, but I will never be your slave. You can give me as many testosterone-filled displays of power as you feel, but I am just as good in magic as you are, if not better. And I swear to you, if I ever get the chance, I will take my escape. If I have to kill you to be free, so be it." Her voice trembled for a moment. "No matter what you say, I know that the Dark Wizards haven't taken over completely. Harry is still alive, and he'll rescue me."

Draco's voice was slow. "Potter has no power in this household. You belong to me, and I will enjoy breaking you."

He raised his wand. "Ensenaro," he whispered. Silvery ropes flew out of his wand and wrapped themselves around Hermione's wrists. With a single gesture she was bound once again.

"Listen to me, Granger," he said. "I expect a lot from you. You're a smart girl; you should be able to figure out that the only way you'll survive is to follow my orders." He walked toward the stairs, pulling Hermione's chains so she was forced to follow. "Come. I will explain to you your duties."


	3. Chapter 3: Draco's Lioness

**MELTING THE ICE**

**Chapter 3: Draco's Lioness**

Draco led a Hermione through the manor, pulling on the chain a little rougher than needed. Although she would never admit it to him, the mansion fascinated her. Hermione took in her surroundings with wide-eyes, trying to commit everything she saw to memory. Although she was seething on the inside, she followed him passively for the time being.

Draco walked ahead, his face stone cold. He never looked back at Hermione--he didn't need to. She was bound to him by the collar around her neck and the chain leading out from it to loop around his hand. He would be able to feel the slightest attempt of anything but compliance on her part.

To Hermione, the mansion seemed to go on forever. She was unused to seeing furnishings this luxurious, and would have relished the opportunity to take a look at the old tomes lying about if this house was anyone's but the Malfoys'. The halls blended together, one after the other, and she was positive that she would be completely lost without Draco there to guide her. Hermione made an effort to remember where she was going, but soon gave up when she lost count of the number of turns they had made so far.

After a long while, when Hermione was finally giving up hope that they'd reach their destination this year, Draco stopped. It took her a moment to figure out the reason they were standing in front of a seemingly blank wall. Draco was waving his wand and muttering a complicated charm under his breath. He stopped, and waited expectantly.

The glossy marble in front of him shuddered and gave way to the door materializing in the center. It was made of ebony, and obviously jinxed against intruders. Two words made of gold appeared at the top: Draco Malfoy.

He opened the door and Hermione gasped. Draco turned back to look at her with one eyebrow raised. She blushed.

"I should have known a mudblood would be so enthralled by my room," he drawled. She glared mutely at him, but left her thoughts unsaid, wanting to escape another beating.

Privately, Hermione thought the room was fit for a king. It was larger even than the Hogwarts' common room, with a magnificent bed in the center covered in a satin bedspread. The curtains were rich velvet, and the décor was all green and black, which Hermione found suiting for him. The Malfoy crest was emblazoned in a prominent place on almost everything, a large M with snakes twined around it. There was a fireplace in the corner, a beautiful ebony desk, and a large wardrobe, but what caught Hermione's eye were the four mahogany bookshelves in one of the corners, each filled with more books than she could count.

Draco followed her gaze and smirked. "I know what you want, Granger. I also know that you'll have absolutely no chance over ever reading any of them. Of course, if you're cooperative, I might be able to make an exception or two..." he leered at Hermione.

"In your dreams, Malfoy," she hissed before spitting in his face.

His suggestive expression darkened into one of hatred. "Stupid mudblood. You'll pay--that little action is going to cost you. You really should learn your place. I have no compassion for a recalcitrant slave refusing to bend before authority."

She turned away from him, refusing to acknowledge his power over her. He stepped closer, forcing her to back into the wall.

"How powerful do you feel now, Granger," he whispered, bringing his mouth close enough to her ear for her to feel his hot breath. Draco placed his arms against the wall on either side her, effectively trapping Hermione in place. He flicked his tongue out to trace around her ear. "You're mine, Granger," he breathed.

Her eyes closed.

"Don't try to deny it…"

Hermione shuddered.

"You want me," he whispered seductively.

For a moment, Hermione seemed to melt into his arms. It lasted a second that felt like eternity before the instant left and she came to her senses, immediately jerking away.

"Not bloody likely." she said. "No one could ever want a snake."

"Feisty," he murmured. "I like that." Draco moved his hand as if to caress her arm, but barely brushed her before he yanked his arm back and slapped her across the face. Her head snapped back from the force of his blow.

"That was for your previous outburst. You've really got to learn to control your temper, Granger, or you're not going to like the consequences. I have no interest in listening to you any longer. I want silence from you now."

He walked over to his bed, pulling the chain so Hermione was forced to follow. "As I was saying earlier, you will sleep on the floor at the foot of my bed, so you'll be there if I need anything. I'll arrange for the houseelves to bring a pallet up for you. Your job is pretty much to follow me around unless I say otherwise, and do as I command. You are to follow my orders at all times, except for the rare occasions when my father takes control of you."

Hermione's eyes widened. She hadn't even thought of having to serve Lucius as well, her thoughts were so filled with ways to lessen the awfulness of being subservient to Draco.

"That should not happen too often, though," Draco continued, "as he wants nothing to do with my slaves. He has his own to keep him busy, and I see no reason why he should be bothering my property. In addition, you will address me as Master, or Master Malfoy, at all times." He smirked at her. "I am going to make you pay for every time you scored higher than me, for every time you received a higher grade than me, for every time you bested me in any way. You will regret ever crossing a Malfoy."

"No, Malfoy," she began, deliberately forgetting to add the "Master" to his name. "I won't regret anything, except for maybe the few instances in which I showed compassion. You just don't get it, do you? You seem to have some idea in your head that I'm going to quietly listen to everything you tell me, nodding my head like a good little slave. Well, guess what? That's not who I am." Her voice rose as it filled with passion. "I don't think that you understand just how strong I am, or how strong I can be. You will never be able to control my actions, my words, and least of all my thoughts." Her eyes sparked with rage. "My name is Hermione Granger, not 'Draco's slave.' I will never regret anything I've done to make your life miserable. All that I'll regret is that I haven't done more."

She glared at him, her eyes daring Draco to challenge her speech. So he did the worst thing he knew of, the one thing he was sure would wound Hermione. He laughed.

"No, Granger, it is you that doesn't get it. You're mine. I own you. See, at Hogwarts you had your precious teachers to hide behind, and you had your supposedly brilliant mind. But here, those things don't matter. The only thing that will affect your future--and your well-being--is my opinion of you. Understand?" He stared her in the eyes.

Hermione found that she couldn't lock gazes with him for longer than a short minute before the coldness of his soul overpowered her and made her turn away. "So it's true," she whispered.

His curiosity won over his reluctance to engage in farther conversation with her. "What?" he asked.

"You really are like your father, with a heart of ice. I always thought… I always hoped… I guess I was just dreaming if I thought that you could ever be human, and act like it. Maybe I just imagined it, but there were times when I had this crazy idea that maybe, just maybe, you were a boy in the shadow of his father, but that you yourself might have a soul." She looked up at him, her warm brown eyes pooling with tears.

Draco looked at her for a moment, just looked at her. He pushed her away and turned to face out the window. She was just about to move, thinking that he had forgotten about her, when he spoke.

"You're wrong, Granger. I am not a boy, but a man, and it would do you well to remember that. You are nothing but a slave who has no right to invent stories about me and my family. I never gave you any reason to expect that I would be anything but downright cruel to you. I am a Malfoy, a pureblood. As a mudblood you are not worth any of the effort spent keeping you and your kind alive and healthy. You should be grateful for the compassion my lord has shown thus far." He turned to watch her.

"Compassion?" she laughed. "I'm sorry, but locking us into cages, taking away our wands, and selling us off into slavery is not my idea of compassion. You may forget it, but I am no longer the girl I was. I am a woman, and you are wrong in that I have no use for my wits. On the contrary, I have great use for my intelligence, as that is the last weapon I have available to me. Merlin help me if I ever stop fighting."

His scorn was evident. "Fighting? More like serving. Give it up, Granger. You belong to me now, and I plan on getting all the pleasure I can out of having you here."

He strode over to stand in front of her once more. Together, the two made an interesting couple. Draco was just over six feet, with a lean, muscular body, grey eyes, and silvery-white blond hair. He contrasted sharply with Hermione's petite, slender frame, chocolate eyes, and long brown curls that tumbled in gentle waves down her back. The two fit together, one feminine and compassionate and the other masculine and cold.

When Draco spoke again, it was with the ease of a boy who knows he has all the time in the world, but with an undertone of a man who expects his orders to be obeyed. "It's time to do something about your clothes. I can't have my servants dressed in rags, or it would reflect poorly on the Malfoy status."

"Is that all you care about? Power, money and status?" she asked.

His voice was toneless. "What else is worth caring about?" She didn't answer, so he continued. "I don't believe we have anything suitable, so I'll just have to transfigure those for you. Not magic I like to perform, so you should be grateful."

Draco talked his way through the spell, his voice weaving in with the motions of his wand to specify the length, size, and color of Hermione's new garments. When he was finished, she was left wearing a dark emerald dress, with a halter-top and a skirt that barely covered her thighs. Her back was mostly bare, save for the strap at her neck and the bit that went down from her lower back.

He looked pleased after it was over. "Not bad. You're finally clothed in proper colors, in a style that fits your current position."

"Not bad?" she shrieked. "This is--this is--scandalous! I can't wear clothes like this! In fact, there's so little material I don't even know if I'd call this clothes! More like indecent green strips of cloth." Her eyes narrowed to slits. "And if you expect me to parade around your house wearing this day in and day out, you've got another think coming."

He smirked. "Of course I don't expect you to wear that all the time," he said. Her sigh of relief was cut short by his next words: "Half the time you'll be in my bed, naked."

She screamed, utterly furious.

"Honestly, Granger, I don't understand why you'd think I would treat you any other way. After all, what did you expect when they put you in that marketplace?" He seemed bored by this time.

"Definitely. Not. This," she said, her voice strangled with anger.

"Get used to it," Draco ordered, his tone cutting off any further argument from her. "Just to ensure that I have you sufficiently trapped here, I'm going to add a little something to your current bonds. I like the snake collar, but let me see…" His voice trailed off as he waved his wand, a silver anklet warded against escape appearing on her left leg. She bent down to see it, and to read the words engraved in an elegant script: "Draco's Lioness."

They slept, or pretended to, each laying silently--Draco in his kingly bed and Hermione on the floor. Her thoughts were filled with her new role in life, and on how to turn it to her advantage; Draco's were on his desires from her. He wanted her; he lusted after her beautiful body. But there was something deeper that he didn't know was there, something he might have called admiration if she wasn't muggle born and if he recognized the feeling. Hermione had a vivacious personality and he liked it, not that he would ever admit it to himself. She was a mudblood, meant for pleasure and sex, nothing more. Definitely not on the same level as pureblooded girls.

Hermione realized that there would be a time and place for her to escape, but this wasn't it. So she watched, waited, and planned, biding her time. Hermione was the most intelligent witch to grace the halls of Hogwarts for centuries, and she knew that she could outsmart Draco. She would lull him into a false sense of security, and then make her move. She looked forward to the day when she would leave this life forever and rejoin Harry in the rebel movement. She knew that it would be awhile before the moment was right, but she had confidence that she could overcome the bonds of slavery that currently held her. She just had to be patient.

Draco held the reins of power and knew it. He was in charge, and Hermione was nothing but a weak mudblood slave. He wasn't stupid: he knew that Hermione had yet to be broken. He was waiting for the right time to show her once and for all that he was her master. He looked forward to the day when she would submit to him, but he knew it would be a while in coming. He could wait, biding his time until the right moment when she would succumb and he could taste the sweet victory of her defeat. He knew that she couldn't resist him forever. He just had to be patient.


	4. Chapter 4: Holding On

**MELTING THE ICE**

**Chapter 4: Holding On**

Hermione opened her eyes, and shut them immediately to protect them against the glare of the morning sun coming through the blinds. It took her a minute to process where she was and why it was so quiet, but then she remembered. She was no longer in the market waiting to be sold--she had been bought. By Draco Malfoy.

The aforementioned seemed to still be asleep, so Hermione took the luxury of curling back up into a ball on the floor in hopes that she could catch a few more minutes of sleep before she was forced to rise. Unfortunately, her hopes were dashed the moment her eyes fell shut.

"Granger. Wake up!" Draco said sharply, sitting up in bed.

"What." Hermione responded crossly. She was not a morning person, and detested being woken before she was ready to wake up.

"It's your first morning here, so I will be lenient right now. Be grateful for my kindness, and do not expect this to happen again. In the future, I expect you to have already gotten up and brought in my breakfast by the time I awaken. That has formerly been a job for house elves, but I have no need for them any more. It will be much more fun to watch you carry out these tasks," he said smugly, leaning against several propped-up pillows.

Hermione gritted her teeth to refrain from slapping his arrogant face or responding with a sharp retort, but she realized that the best way to have any hope of escaping was to gain his trust so he would gradually give her more freedom. The only way to even possibly think of getting him to trust her was to do what he asked, no questions asked.

She merely nodded, not trusting herself to open her mouth. Draco looked surprised at her restraint, then quickly composed himself. "After that you will help me prepare myself for the day. You will constantly remain at my side, a silent shadow. When I give a command, I expect it to be fulfilled instantly. You are to look presentable at all times, no matter what the occasion. I detest unkempt slaves." He paused to take a breath. "Now, I'm hungry, go down to the kitchens and get my food."

The self-satisfied smirk on his face was too much for Hermione. "Yes, your majesty," she replied mockingly before leaving the room. Draco's eyes flashed dangerously, but he kept his temper in check.

_Soon,_ he reminded himself. _Soon._

Hermione berated herself as she walked for her stupidity in succeeding in angering Draco. No good would come of it, and it would do her best to keep her mouth shut around him.

She had only been going down the hallway for a little while when the thought struck her: she had no clue where the kitchens were. "Oh, damn," she muttered under her breath. "I can't go back in there, and I'll be lost in this godforsaken Manor without directions." She considered for a second, before continuing to walk down the hallway after realizing that nothing could make her set foot in that room one moment before she had to. "After all," she reasoned, "I was paying attention when he brought be here yesterday. The kitchens can't be too hard to find. And if they are, that's one less minute I have to spend in close quarters with the ice dragon."

It took Hermione almost an hour of twists and turns to get to the entry hall she was brought in yesterday. Her eye caught the door, but the moment she tried to take a step in that direction, her anklet turned fiery hot, preventing her from making a move towards freedom. Hermione almost growled, she was so fed up with the situation.

She looked around, realized she still didn't have a clue on how to get to the kitchens, and nearly collapsed from hunger and fatigue.

Hermione spun about wildly, looking for any clue that would tell her where the kitchens were. She hadn't seen a soul since she left Draco's room, and she was regretting her decision to not ask him for directions.

_It's bad enough that I am a slave,_ she thought. _But making my owner be Malfoy is just too much to ask._

She took one last futile glance around her at the surroundings that didn't give her a clue about how to get to the kitchens before screaming in frustration. "Is there any person in this Manor that can tell me how to get to the kitchens?"

Hermione wasn't expecting an answer, but she got one. Lucius stepped out from a dark hallway, a shadow of a grin on his face.

"Well, well, well," he said. ""If it isn't my son's new pet, out for a stroll. What brings you here, girl?"

When Hermione didn't answer, his eyes narrowed. "Speak up," he said harshly. "You will answer when spoken to."

"I was looking for the kitchens," she said, keeping her gaze on the floor the whole time. Hermione refused to look at Lucius and give him the satisfaction of seeing the fear in her eyes. She didn't want to admit it, but it was true: she was terrified of him. As a Death Eater, there was no telling what he was capable of doing, or what he would feel like doing to her.

"The kitchens?" Lucius asked. "Did my son not tell you how to find your way?"

"I left before he could," Hermione answered.

"Oh? So it's your fault you're lost?" Lucius queried.

Hermione brought her eyes up to meet his, and responded, "Yes," in a clear voice.

Lucius slapped her face. "Do not raise your eyes to mine. I don't care what my son tells you when you're with him, but I am the master of this house, and I will not have a dirty mudblood slave looking me in the eye like an equal."

Hermione tried not to flinch away from him, but it was hard. He reeked of evil. She took a deep breath and called upon her reserve of Gryffindor courage. It had served her for seventeen and a half years, and she wasn't about to lose it now, no matter what her circumstances.

Lucius saw the change come over her features, and privately admired his son's choice in a pet, and wished he had the luxury of breaking one as stubborn and resilient as this. Well, he wasn't the master of the household for nothing. His son surely wouldn't raise too much of an uproar if he asked to "borrow" the mudblood for a night or two. But that would be later. For now, the girl was to be his son's, part of his transition into manhood. The spoiled brat needed some initiation, after all. If it weren't for Narcissa, the boy wouldn't have been so pampered and indulged throughout his childhood. But all that was changing, in the new world. His son would be the Dark Lord's successor, he would make sure of that. He needn't be coddled any longer.

Lucius' attention snapped back to the lovely specimen standing in front of him, patiently waiting to be dismissed. Good. Even though she was the most willful creature, apparently she had learned her place.

He hesitated. It would be enjoyable to… _assist_… his son in taming this lioness right now. But, no, it was about time Draco learned to care for his pets himself. Now was not the time for him to step in. "The kitchens are in that direction," he pointed. "Be quick about it--my son is not accustomed to waiting. And if I ever catch you stepping above your place again, you will feel the extent of my wrath," he said. When Hermione didn't move immediately, he frowned. "You will respond immediately when given an order. Get to it!" he ordered severely, then swiveled on his foot and disappeared off to wherever he was before.

Hermione turned and followed the direction of his finger. It was sorely tempting to ignore her instructions and try to make Draco's life miserable, but she was smart enough to know that that would ultimately result in her pain. The only was to could fight back for now was passive-resistance, and to even begin that she first needed to gain the trust of the Malfoys. _Not that they'll ever trust me, _she thought bitterly._ I'm muggle-born, and this new world is not kind to those with muggle blood in their veins._

Although she tried to stop them, she couldn't completely block the flashbacks from the final battle that had plagued her for months. They hit her with full force this time, breaking the fragile mental blocks she had placed around that portion of her memory. Hermione was almost to the kitchens, but the strength of the images weighed her down, and she collapsed against the wall.

The Death Eaters had swarmed over the school without warning. There were wards around the school, but those were broken easily if you knew the password. Snape had gone to Voldemort with the keys to breaking into Hogwarts, and once the ancient protections were gone, it was hopeless. Even Dumbledore couldn't hope to stop that many creatures of evil. Perhaps the worst part, as she reflected back, was that she had trusted Snape. She had told Harry and Ron repeatedly that Dumbledore trusted him, and he had reformed, so he was good. But that was all a lie.

The memories flashed in front of her eyes, too fast for her to really see.

_Professor Lupin burst into the main hall with a half-crazed look in his eyes. "It's starting!" he yelled to Dumbledore. No more explanations were needed. No more time was available. The doors burst open, and the slaughter began. The majority of the Slytherins followed Snape as he led them to the Death Eaters. They joined their fathers, and laughed._

_Harry and Voldemort were locked in a deadly battle while the fight continued in the rest of the Great Hall. Neither could seem to defeat the other, but neither was willing to give up._

_Hermione cradled Ron, sobbing. She had been unable to prevent the Death Eater from pointing the killing curse at him. Ron still had his whole life to live. He died defending his sister. Ginny, horrified, had lost her concentration and was knocked out with a stunning spell. She was deemed too valuable to dispose of, so they left her for later use._

_Hands pried Ron from Hermione, but left her untouched. They took him away as she screamed for him. Something in Hermione snapped, and she lost it. Her sense of decency snapped. She began firing curse after curse, managing to disable more than one Death Eater._

_Dumbledore shoved a Portkey into Harry's hand just as Voldemort whirled and killed the one wizard that kept everyone safe. Before Harry had time to react, the Portkey activated and he was taken, Hermione hoped, to safety._

_She wreaked havoc on the Death Eaters. They had all underestimated her, because she was muggleborn. They had left her untouched, possible for amusement later. But no one would ever underestimate Hermione Granger again; she made sure of that._

_The last thing Hermione remembered before all went black was Snape pointing a wand at her. He was laughing. He continued to laugh with that maniacal grin, and his comrades joined him. Everything went black._

_She was tortured for information about Harry, but they soon realized she was worthless in that regard. So she was put with the rest of the muggleborns, stripped of her wand and her dignity. Hermione didn't care, because Ron, her beloved Ron, was gone. Nothing mattered anymore. She wanted to die._

_Then she heard about Harry. Whispered rumors that the Boy-Who-Lived was still alive, still lived. So she held on. Hermione didn't let go of those few strands of life she hung to. She held on, for Harry. For hope._

_And now, she was given an opportunity. She was released from the cages, and given the chance to make a difference. She was made a slave of Voldemort's most loyal followers. A dangerous position, but she was a brilliant girl. Being owned by the Malfoys was the best and worst thing she could have asked for._

So she opened her eyes, held her head up high, and entered the kitchens. For now, she would hold on. She would do what she was told, so she could stay alive. For the resistance. For the oppressed. For Harry.


	5. Chapter 5: Heart of Ice

(Warning: this chapter definitely deserves its R rating—it contains rape, so do not read what follows if that subject offends you.)

**MELTING THE ICE**

**Chapter 5: Heart of Ice**

Hermione walked quickly down the corridor, balancing a tray of food on one hand and carrying a jug of iced pumpkin juice in the other. The house elves had been more than helpful when she had entered the kitchens, immediately giving her what she needed for Draco. She pitied them, but knew that now was no time to try to convince them they'd be happier free. She was a slave herself, and wouldn't be able to help them until she had earned her own freedom.

The only way she saw to do that was to willingly act how she was required to so her new masters would begin to trust her. Only by playing along would she be able to fool them in trusting her. Then, and only then, would she have gained the option of having free will. If ever.

For some reason, she was able to find her way back to Draco's room without any difficulties. Perhaps it was some spell charmed into the house. But whatever the reason, it made her life that much easier, and Hermione had gotten to the point where she was grateful for any little thing that helped.

As she made her way through the increasingly familiar hallways, she couldn't help but notice how beautifully decorated they were. It was a large, elegant house, not what she would have pictured for the Malfoys. There was no evidence anywhere that they were Dark Wizards, but she knew very well how deceiving appearances could be.

Hermione looked up to see the door to Draco's room in front of her. She paused for a minute, trying to figure out how she was going to open the door when she had no free hands. Hermione semi-balanced the tray between her hip and arm, then quickly knocked on the door before anything had the chance to fall down.

The door opened slowly. "Enter," a voice drawled lazily from within.

Hermione pushed the door open the rest of the way with her foot, walking in to find Draco lounging on his bed and flicking disinterestedly through a copy of _Playwizard_. He tossed it down as Hermione approached, and he looked up at her expectantly.

She silently set the food down in front of him, then sat in a chair across the room and glared. "Took you long enough, Granger," he muttered as he began to eat, "I thought I was going to starve before you got back."

"Well, if your house wasn't so goddamned big and confusing I may have been back faster!" she snapped, tired of the abuse Draco was wont to give her, "Would it have killed you to tell me how to get to the kitchens?"

He raised an eyebrow at her outburst. "Touchy this morning, aren't we Granger?"

She almost snarled at him. See how _he_ would deal with first having his world destroyed, and then being enslaved by his enemy since first year. She had half a mind to get up and dump that pitcher of pumpkin juice on his head, but on second thought she probably realized it wasn't in her best interest to completely aggravate him so early in the morning.

"You would do well to remember your place and to watch your… distasteful language while in the presence of your superiors," Draco continued, a maddening smirk on his arrogant face.

Hermione bit her lip. She had promised herself to try to stay in control so the opportunity to escape might present itself, but she knew she was on the brink of snapping.

"That's better," Draco said, a satisfied look on his smug face. "I always knew you were a submissive one inside… most mudbloods yearn to be, I've found. Something about their impure breeding brings out that attribute.

He ignored the fierce look developing in her eyes. Why should he care what she thought, after all? He was the only one who mattered anymore.

"Or, it could just be when mudbloods come into contact with purebloods," he continued his pondering, "They know they're inferior, and they desire to show it any way they can. Just as you'll soon learn, Granger… I am superior to you in every way, and you would do well to take that to heart and act accordingly."

Hermione knew she was making a mistake, but Draco had always been able to push her buttons. The only times she had gotten in real trouble at Hogwarts had in some way involved him—during all other situations she was able to maintain self control. She realized in the back of her mind that it might benefit her to keep her mouth shut, but somehow she couldn't stop the words she heard herself speaking.

"Shut up," she snapped harshly. "Just shut up. I can't do this. I've put up with your pathetic attempts to offend me for years, but I can't do it any longer. You think I'm just going to sit here and listen quietly while you insult me every way you can? You conceited son of a bitch!"

Something inside Draco snapped. He was _done_ having her try to prove he wasn't in charge. The mudblood bitch needed to be put in her place, and shown once and for all that _he_ was the one in control.

He was nearly growling with anger as he stood up to face her. His features contorted, forming an expression so maliciously terrifying it forced Hermione to back away in fear. She realized too late that she had pressed herself against a wall, unintentionally trapping herself in an inescapable position.

"Get away from me!" she ordered sharply, the fear evident in her voice.

"Granger, you pitiful creature, you don't have the luxury of choice. You have no rights anymore, and _no_ say as to what's going to happen next. You are my slave, my _property_, and I may do with you as I wish. Your only purpose is to serve me. If you fail in that, the penalty for your disobedience will be death," he told her. He seemed almost calm, but the look in his eyes told her otherwise.

She had only seen him like this a few times before, and what followed had never been pleasant: a loss of his control, along with various curses being shot at the one who had antagonized him. But she knew that cursing her was the last thing on his mind.

Hermione tried to turn away, but Draco caught her wrist in his hand. He drew her close to him, and before she could resist, bent down and claimed her lips in a brutal kiss that left her weak from lack of oxygen. His kiss was harsh and possessive, and he didn't draw away until he was sure she was too faint to fight back.

As she gasped for breath, Draco easily picked her up and threw her onto his bed. He paused for an instant to perform a quick charm that left them both unclothed before climbing on the bed so that he was directly over her.

She gasped at the sudden contact and attempted to get away, but her struggles were futile. Draco easily held her arms over her head with one hand as he used the other to keep her body firmly in place.

Draco forced her legs open, and positioned himself at her entrance. "No!" Hermione cried out, the word torn from her despite her not wanting to be in the position of pleading to a Malfoy. "No, don't! Stop!"

"You. Are. _Mine_," he growled as he forced his way into her, claiming the last of her innocence. He was brutal, pushing roughly into her without a thought for her comfort. All that mattered to him was his own pleasure, and the fact that he was in finally in complete control of her.

She tried not to cry out; she didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing how much he was hurting her, but the initial pain was so great she couldn't help herself. He merely smirked, paying no attention to her efforts to push him away. She finally fell limp, exhausted from her violent struggling.

What hurt her most was the blankness in his eyes. Here he was, tearing from her the only bits of innocence she had left, taking away the last thing she could claim to have, and it didn't seem to affect him in the slightest.

His stone cold eyes contained none of the anger that had seemed to spur him into the act. There was none of the disgust she thought she would have seen. There was no hatred, no rage, _nothing_. She couldn't even see any joy at her helplessness. At least she could have handled that. It would have meant that she mattered, even a little, if Draco had derived some sort of sick pleasure from her abuse.

But there was nothing. No emotion whatsoever. His gaze was cold and heartless, revealing the soulless interior. She meant nothing to him, not even as an object. The only reason he was doing this to her was to prove that he _could_, that she was his.

What pained her the most was the fact that she no longer meant anything to anyone. That knowledge stripped her of her last illusions of finding hope in this new, horrible world.

Suddenly she was beyond caring about anything, even the physical pain that accrued as Draco continued to fuck her. All that was left in her was a desire for it all to end, for there to be eternal rest. If she could just sleep forever, there would be no emotional daggers piercing her heart, slashing though her soul and sanity. With sleep, there would be no more pain. It would all be over.

The despair consumed her, wiping out all thoughts and dreams she had once had. She almost couldn't feel what was happening anymore, so deep had she sunk into blinding depression.

The look in his eyes, that gaze of utter apathy, drove her to want to end it all. Anything, including death, would be better than this. If he, her arrogant capturer, couldn't muster even a single emotion whatsoever as he desecrated her body, not one emotion to let her know that there was some sadistic purpose behind this agony, then there was no longer any reason for her to hold on to her hopes. Now she was nothing. She meant nothing; her sole purpose was for torture, to be used as a pawn in his sick, twisted game.

It was at that moment Hermione transformed from the strong, brave woman she once was into an empty, suicidal shell of a human being. She shut her eyes as Draco continued his malevolent act. She prayed that her life would soon be over, that since now she was nothing she would soon be able to act the part and cease to exist. Then she would be at peace, at rest, for eternity.

Her wish wasn't granted, however. Not even her final hope of finding peace would be fulfilled. Draco could see her attempts to escape the situation in the fantasy of her mind, and automatically assumed that she only wished to be doing this with someone else. Who was she imagining him as! He knew she was unwilling, yes, but he was _Draco Malfoy_, and she had better know it!

"Open your eyes," he ordered, "Don't pretend I'm someone else; do _not _block me out. You are _mine_, Granger. _I'm_ the one with the power, and it would do you good to remember that!"

He pinched her viciously to remind her who he was as his strokes became faster and his breathing more erratic, before he finally climaxed in her in one final thrust.

"You bastard," Hermione whispered, barely able to mouth the words, "You fucking bastard."

Slowly she opened her eyes, and he all but recoiled in shock. Gone was the fire that he had taken for a given to be behind those chocolate orbs. He almost didn't recognize the expression they held, though he had seen it elsewhere numerous times before. Yes, he had seen it, but never on her. Never, until now.

The despair contained in those eyes put him at unease. He had never thought that there would be a time he'd look at Granger and not see the ever-present brightness that used to make him want to hex her. Even when he'd found her in that cage, she still looked at the world with hope in her eyes.

Those eyes… all that he could see in them now was despair. She'd given up. He'd wanted to break her, but hadn't thought it would be that easy. Apparently, he'd done more than take the last remnants of her innocence: he'd stolen her hope as well. The thought _should_ have made him gleeful with joy, that he'd managed to rob her of that brightness he so detested.

Tears began leaking out of her eyes and she turned away from him, ashamed to let him see his final victory over her. His voice offered her no respite: "Look at me, Granger. I want you to see who did this to you, and remember it well. _I am your master._"

His harsh words only served to weaken her further. She gave up the unspoken battle and convulsed into sobs, her body shaking as she made a last feeble effort to suppress the deep torment and grief inside her. The tears streamed down her face, but she managed to meet his stare.

Something seemed to come over her. The sadness was still there, the despair immersed throughout her soul, but as he watched something change. Draco caught a glimpse of a spark, buried deeply in her soul. It was a single spark, flashing quickly before it was gone, extinguished beneath the overwhelming helplessness. It wasn't much, but it was enough.

The hatred he had just seen in her eyes, however brief, let him know that the old Hermione wasn't entirely gone yet. She was buried under the layers of pain he had inflicted, but the infuriating bookworm he had known had not disappeared completely.

He didn't know why, but that sight comforted him somewhat. The thought that Hermione would be broken so easily didn't appeal to him. He didn't understand why, but he knew he was glad that there was still some remnant of her old, irksome self in there. Because he wasn't ready to lose her yet.

**Beta's Note**: I apologize for the length of time it took Jackie to write this. XD You have no idea how much I had to poke her during school to get her to finally do this. XD So yes, if it weren't for me this chapter wouldn't have been finished for another five years. So you all better thank me::flail: Shameless plug—My penname is Vampiryyn. Read! WHEE!

**Author's Note:** I'm so sorry for how long it took me to get this done! It's been… wow, almost a year. :cowers in shame: I really have no excuses… this chapter took me awhile to write, and I've been very busy, but it's really thanks to my incredibly awesome beta that this finally got done. She has been poking me (every day!) for the past month, which is what I needed to just sit down and finish writing this chapter. The next chapter will hopefully be up a lot sooner than it took for this one, so thank you all for your patience and continuous support! And while you're waiting for the next chapter, go read some of **Vampiryyn**'s stories. She mostly writes Matrix stuff, but she also does some Harry Potter, and I love all of her things. So yes. Read. And I will write.


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